


Please Recycle

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: Smol Dragon Barry 'verse [5]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Baby dragons - Freeform, Eobard Needs to Chill, Eobard is Literal Trash, Fluff, Gen, Imprinting, Jealous Barry, Legends included because Sara Lance cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6606493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's something important...in the garbage."<br/>"Yes!"</p><p> </p><p>[snowflakesandlightning asked: It's my birthday tomorrow! So I shall request Smol dragon Barry and jealous, of who I shall let you decide, I just need Smol pouty Barry dragon]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Recycle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wfricke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wfricke/gifts), [BlueStar1937](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueStar1937/gifts).



> Happy birthday to snowflakesandlightning! (I don't know the Ao3 pseud for her if she has one)
> 
> EDIT: GOT IT!

Len knows, he just _knows_ he's going to regret asking. 

Doesn’t stop him from doing it: “Barry, why are you digging in a trash can?”

He gives the carabiner strap a light tug. Barry squawks as he finds himself bursting from the bin.

Ugh, he smells already. This is what Len gets for enjoying his coffee.

“There’s something in there!” the tiny dragon protests, pointing his talon at the can. He’s clearly agitated. “Something really important! But I can’t _get it_!”

“There’s something important…in the garbage.”

“Yes!” Len raises an eyebrow. Barry makes a frustrated noise, “I know it sounds weird but I’m telling the truth!”

With that, he speeds back into the bin and resumes digging. That’s how Len knows he’s serious: Barry usually becomes a bolt of lightning when he wants to get things done, but if he’s not taking that risk…

“Move.”

Barry sneezes as he’s yanked out again. He attempts to land on Len’s shoulders—"No, Barry”—and is left bereft on the adjacent dumpster.

Len sets down his coffee and carefully summons his ice. “Is it at the bottom?”

“Yeah.”

Slowly, Len breaks through the layers of garbage. It takes three minutes and forty-seven seconds to reach what Barry was obviously looking for.

Len nearly gapes. It’s a dragon egg.

Barry dives in and retrieves it. The thing is nearly half his size, but he manages to carry it through sheer force of will and quick flaps of his wings. Len adjusts his own gloves and takes it from him.

“How did you know it was there?” he asks, turning it over in his hands.

“I…” Barry tilts his head, “I just kinda—felt it.”

Upon closer observation, Len isn’t surprised Barry did. Allen’s a rare breed, but this egg looks almost identical to his. Only instead of scarlet red with yellow webbing patterns, this one is yellow with red.

And now it’s cracking.

Len whispers a curse, urgently placing it in the shadows of the alley. The last thing he needs is for a baby dragon to imprint on an unsuspecting passerby. Better to have an extra dragon following him around for a few days than have someone completely unprepared.

Barry lands next to the egg. He’ll certainly be jealous. Len can see it now; it’ll be so _cu—_ frustrating, Snart. It will be _frustrating_.

A head shakes out of its shell, followed by the rest of it. Unlike Barry, this dragon is a methodical hatcher, neatly splitting their shell and shaking themselves out as efficiently as possible. Quite a relief for Len, considering he’s gotta take the shards _and_ dragon with him to the fort.

The hatchling peers up at him with intelligent eyes. “And who might you be?” they ask.

“Leonard Snart,” Len replies, “and this is Barry Allen.”

The hatchling wrinkles their snout. They tell Barry in plain bluntness, “I’ve never smelled anything so repulsive.”

Barry growls, “Hey! We saved you from the _trash_!”

“Impossible. No one would throw me away.”

Oh great. An arrogant one. It’s Hartley all over again. “Might’ve by mistake,” Len says, picking up the eggshell halves and carefully stowing them in his messenger bag, “you got a name?”

The hatchling hums. “I know I am of the Thawne bloodline.” Oh. That’s—interesting. “My dam did whisper something to me before she screamed. I assume she was killed.”

Eddie _had_ been rescued from a raid, but…well, Eddie Thawne is a unicorn. How’d this egg end up in a Central City alley, then? And how is it a _dragon_?

“My name is Eobard,” the hatchling says after a beat, prideful and firm, “Eobard Thawne. I want food, Leonard Snart.”

Len smirks, “I bet you do. Hop on.”

Barry finally pipes up, “What? But _I_ sit there!”

Eobard climbs onto Len’s shoulder. He looks exactly like the reverse color scheme of Barry, but with a more angular jaw and slightly more muscle, yet Len can’t help but see that he has no wings.

This one’s quite a mystery.

“Well, Barry,” Len says, “I got two shoulders.”

Eobard promptly drapes himself around his neck, setting his head in his paws. “You are comfortable,” he reports.

Barry snarls as Len pats this interloper’s head. He feels a brief surge of triumph as Eobard growls—until Len strokes his tail and everything’s just fine again.

They head towards a curb, Len retrieving both his coffee and cell phone.

“What is that?” asks Eobard.

“Communication device,” Len instantly replies, having gone through this same routine questioning with every dragon he’s handled.

“Fascinating.” Then, in a lofty tone, “I want one.”

Len always keeps burner phones on hand. He puts it into Eobard’s waiting talons.

“You are very efficient, Leonard Snart.”

“Gee thanks,” Len mutters as he dials his eggmate. Barry seethes at his feet.

Lisa picks up on the first ring. “Darling brother-mine! I thought you took Barry for a walk?”

Len scoffs quietly. Ever since Mick, Lisa’s always referred to Len’s dragons as dogs no matter how many times Len’s assured her he loves her best.

“Change of plans, sis,” he says, “I found an egg. He says his name is Eobard  _Thawne_.”

A pause. “Well,” Lisa says, “aren’t you just a magnet for mystery, Lenny? How’s poor Barry holding up with his new contender?”

Len glances down at Barry. The dragon’s shoved himself into his bag, little head peeking out with an indignant scowl.

“Peachy,” he replies.

Lisa laughs, “Oh, I’m sure. But I suppose I can’t just leave you there.”

A touch of a possessive growl edges into her tone. Lisa’s always been territorial over him just as he’s protective of her. Sibling bonding, people call it.

“I’m on 5th and Clarke,” he says, “don’t keep me waiting too long. The ice in my coffee will melt.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Lisa simpers. She hangs up without another word.

“You have a sibling,” Eobard says.

Len turns to see that he’s poking around the circuitry of the phone. He can’t deny that he’s impressed—hatchlings usually don’t have that dexterity until day 2 at least.

Barry sees his admiration and growls louder. Not even Len’s idle two-fingered strokes along his head silence him.

“A sister,” Len replies, eyeing the skies, “she’ll be swinging by in eighty seconds—sixty-five if she doesn’t stop to talk to her rider about it.”

“Very precise,” says Eobard. “Where is my food?”

“Keep your antennae on. My sister will fly us to it.”

“My antennae are attached to my head. There is no way to detach them short of mutilation. Is your sister a dragon?”

Hartley was dismissive and aloof, but Eobard might actually have him beat with the way he shot down Len’s sarcasm.

Still, Len’s not looking for a bond here; he’s already got that with Barry. So he just says, “Medical anomaly. When she hatched, they found a human baby in her egg—me. Our father was a human.”

“Your father mated with a dragon?”

Len smirks, “Dragons can have human forms. In three months you'll be able to learn how, if you want.”

“Interesting. And she did not devour you?”

“You’d think she would. Most dragons with our situation do. Obviously,” Eobard snorts at the word, “she didn’t.”

Right on time, gold scales glitter against the sun. Len feels an instinctual comfort at the sight of his eggmate, his strokes along Barry’s head turning lazy with his relaxing muscles. The traffic cops stop the cars to make room for her landing.

Len feels himself smile. “Hey, sis.”

“Lenny,” Lisa hums, bringing her eyes to Eobard, “and this must be Eobard. Where is little Barry?” Len nods to him. “Oh, what a sweet little puppy,” she coos, “did you get cold, darling?”

Barry snaps, “Eobard took my spot!”

Lisa growls laughter. “Come aboard, dear brother.”

Len steps into her waiting talons, mindful of Eobard on his shoulders still playing with the phone. “Didn’t catch you at a bad time?” 

“Nonsense. We haven’t flown together in far too long, anyway.”

That they haven’t. Len settles into the stirrups and grips her neck spike in familiar movements. “Good, Barry?”

Barry grumbles.

“Eobard?”

“I am hungry.”

Len rolls his eyes. Lisa laughs again as she takes off.

* * *

Once Eobard is eating, Barry shifts into human form and wraps all four limbs around Len as soon as his handler’s sitting with Lisa.

“Aw, Lenny,” Lisa croons, “he’s _jealous_.”

Barry doesn’t even deny it like he normally would. Len breaks free from his hold to switch to his lap instead. He might as well enjoy some down time before Commander West comes trotting over; centaurs are so particular about their inspections. Getting Barry as his dragon was a nightmare in itself.

Fortunately Len’s show of trust soothes Barry’s nerves, the dragon contenting himself with lightly scratching his head and tracing shapes along his chest. Sheltered between his sister’s talons and surrounded by Barry’s touches, Len could…almost…doze off.

Then Barry growls and the moment’s ruined.

Len peels an eye open to see Eobard lumbering over Lisa talons to curl on Len’s stomach like a cat. Not West, then.

He closes his eye and shifts a little to resettle. “He’s imprinted on me, Barry,” he says, already getting a slur, “he’ll find someone else soon enough.”

“No,” Eobard denies before Barry can speak, “I quite like you, Leonard Snart.”

Len hums. “I do have a sparkling personality. But I’ve already got a dragon.”

Eobard scoffs, “I would be a better companion than Barry Allen.”

Barry snarls, fingers curling into claws—

Eobard gives an undignified squeak as he’s shoved from the handler’s stomach.

“Talk shit, get hit,” Len deadpans.

Lisa nudges Eobard to his feet. “Simple rule of rider-dragon relations, sweetheart,” she says in a way that’s sickly sweet and definitely not friendly, “don’t insult a rider’s dragon in front of them.”

Eobard stubbornly crawls back onto Len’s stomach. When he refrains from making a comment, Len allows him to stay.

Eventually, Barry resumes his ministrations, gratified by Len’s retort. Len really does drift this time…but only for four and a half minutes, because West barks, “Snart!” and the moment is ruined yet again.

Fucking centaurs.

* * *

Eobard does move on, just as Len said he would. 

But he actually goes for Cisco first, prompting a fight between him and the formidable Harrison Wells. The ebony dragon with translucent markings is not known for outright violence, but he goes as far as snarling at Eobard and shoving Cisco onto his back.

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Cisco calls, hugging his dragon’s spikeless neck as much as he can, “No one’s taking this guy from your back, bro. You’re a dick, but you’re _my_ —okay that’s gonna come out wrong. What I mean to say is, no mas, Eobard! This ass is staying right here!”

Harrison turns to stare at him, sufficiently calmed enough to say, “Cisco, rethink that last statement.”

Cisco groans.

Eobard tries Caitlin next, which has disastrous results. Caitlin has to throw herself on top of the baby dragon so Mick doesn’t burn his flesh and tear his bones apart—which works for all of two seconds before Mick roars twice as loud, snatching Caitlin into his talons and tucking her against his heaving chest.

“ _Mine_ ,” he growls in no uncertain terms.

Eobard does not seem at all affected. To Len’s headache, he responds with a nonchalant, “I am so sorry you had to be saddled with this brute, Dr. Snow.”

Then _Len_ has to throw himself in front of Mick, despite not at all wanting to after what the little shit just said. And you can imagine how well that goes over: at least eight dragons cry out in alarm. Barry slams into him, small but definitely not weak, knocking him right into Lisa.

Sara smirks down at him. “Rough day?”

Under Barry’s incessant nuzzling, Len can only grunt.

Once Jay-fucking-Garrick is chosen by Eobard-fucking-Thawne, everyone takes a deep breath.

It’s a match made for disaster. But for now, Len needs an Aspirin.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I almost called this one Reverse Trash
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
